


The ghost of Christmas presents

by TooManyChoices



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Secret Santa, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock begins to sneak out at night, John was rightly concerned. But the truth may be stranger still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The ghost of Christmas presents

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'yourdailydoseofjohnlock' competition on Tumblr. So much fluff....I may drown in it

“I’m worried.” John pushed a piece of beetroot around his plate, “He’s out every night, sometimes sneaking out after I’ve gone to bed. Whatever he’s doing, he’s keeping it from me.”

Lestrade and Molly flicked worried glances toward each other then back at John.

“You think it might be drugs again?” Molly speared the errant vegetable from under John’s fork and popped it into her own mouth.

“I don’t know. I hope not. He gave us his word, and he doesn’t seem…..well, no more than usual.”

Lestrade offered between mouthfuls of pasta, “What do you want, John? Do you want him followed?”

“I don’t want to, I really don’t, but….”John put his fork down, “what’s the alternative?”

By way of agreement, Lestrade replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”

@@@

“I don’t like the idea of you out there alone, Greg. After all, this isn’t exactly an official investigation.” Molly moved a series of specimen trays between cabinets, checking temperatures as she went. “Can’t you take John with you?”

Lestrade shook his head, “Too great a chance that Sherlock would spot him. You know what they’re like, it’s as if he has some weird radar that tells him when John’s close. No, I’ll go alone.”

“I could come with you.” She added hesitantly.

“And have you out there in the dark, following him to God knows where….not on your life. I’ll be fine Molly, I’m a big boy.” He grinned at her, “and don’t tell anyone…but I’ve got a gun.”

@@@

“What are you up to, you crazy bugger?” Lestrade murmured the question to himself under his breath as he watched Sherlock stride under the train overpass and into the shadows.

He’d been following Sherlock for over an hour as the tall man in the Belstaff coat travelled through increasingly seedier parts of town in the quiet hours near midnight. Occasionally he’d pause to speak to members of his homeless network, small objects changing hands. Initially alarmed, Greg quickly discerned that the exchanges…whatever they were…certainly weren’t money and drugs.

He could have sworn that Sherlock handed one woman a large ball of wool, and another man some long strips of leather. In exchange, he’d received a single shoe, tucked away in a deep pocket of his coat. Another had silently passed over some wire, seemingly twisted into a complex knot. As the game of cat and mouse continued, Lestrade gained precious little additional insight apart from a grudging respect for the truly astonishing number of contacts and confidants that Sherlock had amassed among the Homeless of London.

Hoping for a spark of inspiration, Lestrade repeated the process several times over the next week with equally frustrating results. Some nights, he revisited a few of the same people, supplementing the set with new faces, and excluding others. There was no pattern Greg could identify and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Sherlock he was following, he’d have been tempted to contact the consulting detective for help in understanding the seemingly random pattern.

@@@

“I’ve got no idea.” In Molly’s lab, Lestrade threw his hands up in frustration as he gave her the details of what he’d seen.

She listened thoughtfully as Greg tried to lay out logically the endless scraps of information he’d gathered. Finally, she smiled and touched her fingers to her lips in delight.

“I think I might have an idea. As peculiar as this may sound Greg, I think he’s playing Santa Claus to his Homeless network.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said he collects from some, and gives to others?”

Greg nodded.

“And revisits some he’s dropped materials off to earlier, and collects things?”

“Yes……Wait…..you’re serious…Sherlock?”

Molly nodded brightly, “I think so. As unlikely as it sounds, I think Sherlock may be masterminding London’s largest gift exchange.”

“That’s insane……” Lestrade looked sceptical,”…Sherlock?”

“Take me with you tonight and I can tell you for sure.”

“Alright, you win. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

@@@

“Christmas presents?” John’s hand stilled in the process of lifting his teacup to his mouth, “He’s delivering Christmas presents.”

Molly and Greg nodded solemnly.

“Secretly….?”

Another joint nod.

“Not drugs….?”

“Not drugs.” They agreed together.

John thought for a moment as he lowered his untouched tea to the saucer, “Drugs would have made more sense.”

Greg smirked, “…And slightly less terrifying. I mean, Sherlock…..not really the Christmas type, is he?”

John laughed, the look of concern he’d been wearing for the past weeks falling away, “No….but then, he’d be completely insufferable if he didn’t keep surprising us.”

“So what do we do now?” Molly asked, “Do we tell him we know?”

John and Greg exchanged sly looks before John added, “Where’d be the fun in that. I have a better idea.”

@@@

Two days before Christmas, the final plans were in place. John and Greg had put in many long hours walking the streets, approaching strangers and hunting down as many of Sherlock’s network as possible. All that was needed now was for John to get the guest of honour to the party.

“Sherlock, get your coat. We’re going out.” John called as he descended the stairs from his room.

“Why?” Sherlock looked up from his pipette, the blue-tinted liquid stilling mid-drop above the slide.

“Lestrade’s just messaged me. He needs us at a crime scene.” For good measure he paused and added, “…He says it’s messy.”

Sherlock’s head flicked up as his attention caught, “Complicated messy…or…..messy..messy?”

John smiled, “Does it matter?”

Sherlock grinned back and John knew he had him hooked. As they climbed into the taxi, Sherlock grilled him for case details that John didn’t have, and with perfectly genuine frustration John told Sherlock to just wait to see what Lestrade had managed to find for them.

Dusk was just beginning to fall when they pulled up at the vacant building site. They’d known that the moment his feet hit the ground that any hope of surprise would be laughable, so John simply walked quietly by his side and gave Sherlock the joy of deducing the situation.

“Not a crime scene.” Sherlock had spotted Lestrade in the distance, but Molly’s presence beside him clearly added a touch of complexity.

“What makes you say that?” John encouraged him to lay it all out.

“Not enough police. That and the complete lack of police tape, John. Lestrade’s here, but any case serious enough for his presence would necessitate at least two other Inspectors and probably half a dozen officers. So…not a crime scene. Obvious.”

John smiled, “Anything else?”

“Someone has set up fire-pits, someone that knows what they’re doing…long acclimatised to life on the street.” He looked around himself, “There are too many people here. It’s open to the elements, so this isn’t somewhere my….” He corrected himself quickly, “..the homeless usually gather so why are they here now?...” Sherlock slowed, looking again at the faces of the dozens of people milling around in small groups around the fires, looked at Lestrade and Molly sharing animated conversation with them, “You’ve gathered them here…..why?”

Sherlock’s forward movement had completely ceased now as motor function was subverted to work through his deductive process, “I know these people.” He focussed in on face after face, “I know all of them….that can’t be coincidence.”

John leaned in close and murmured in Sherlock’s ear, “Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened just a fraction, his shoulders tightened minutely as he checked over the crowd again. Here..there was a woman in a hand-knitted beanie sharing a warm drink with a young man…there..a man in gloves, a patchwork of leather pieces, proudly showing them to Molly…to one side, a group of men played cards with a deck made up of mismatched backs and near one of the fires a young woman was showing off a pair of earrings clearly woven from coloured wire.

Lestrade and Molly spotted then and waved in welcome then continued their conversations, clearly at ease with the virtual strangers they’d just met.

John reached out a hand to Sherlock’s arm, gaining his attention, “Look at them Sherlock. You did this; you brought a little light to their lives at a time that many of them feel very alone. They’re your network Sherlock, but they’re more than that. They’re not alone anymore; they’re a community…..Your community.”

Sherlock made a dismissive noise.

“No….look…REALLY look. Many of these people have never met, but they made things for each other. For some of them, it’s the first gift they’ve been given for years. This may have been engineered by you…and yes, we know you did that…but the gifts are from each other.”

The hint of a blush tinted Sherlock’s cheeks as John continued to speak earnestly to him, “You’re amazing….I know I don’t say it as often anymore, and maybe I should. You.are.amazing….and you do it without even realising it.”

“John…” Sherlock began hesitantly.

“No. That’s enough for now. I know ‘sentiment’ bothers you, so I’ll stop before I get soppy.”

“Too late.” Sherlock huffed and John cuffed him on the arm.

“Let’s join the party, Lestrade’s got ribs cooking over the flames and I’d kill for a beer.” John placed a hand at the small of Sherlock’s back and nudged him forward.

“Now that would be Christmas…..a murder over a pint of beer, can you imagine?” Sherlock smiled as they joined the group.


End file.
